


Juno Steel and the Casablanca Caper

by She5los



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Canon-Typical Drinking, Canon-typical PTSD, Canon-typical anxiety and depression, Drug and overdose mention, Emotional Whump, Hurt/Comfort, It's mostly soft cuddling sessions interspersed with yelling about how much they care, Minor violence - no blood or permanent injuries, Mutually toxic relationships, Other, This really isn't as bad as the tags are making it sound, Unusual snack flavors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 11:05:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19227904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/She5los/pseuds/She5los
Summary: "In a lot of ways, [the abandoned hallway in the Fortezza] reminded me of my old wedding gown: it was dusty, smelled like a lot of dreams had probably died in it, and had been pushed off into a dark corner somewhere in hopes that everyone would just forget the damn thing had ever happened."Or, Juno Steel ends up in the wrong gin joint and Peter Nureyev helps him through the ensuing breakdown.





	Juno Steel and the Casablanca Caper

**Author's Note:**

> My beta, Seladorie, read this and said, "Juno doesn't cope very well, does he?" All I could say was: he copes better when he can take action to fix things. Please enjoy this story where Juno's stuck on a spaceship and still has to deal with his feelings.
> 
> This fic starts where Season 2 left off: Juno and Rita in front of the ship, Peter Nureyev on the hood of the RUBY7, and Juno's face mask up, not protecting him from all the dust.

Juno wanted to be a smartass.  The back of his mind was filling up with things to say: the hell are you doing to that poor car? -- Aw, did you miss me off-planet? -- I didn’t know there was a Sports Animated photoshoot today.  Instead, Juno stared, mouth open, until another fit of coughing overtook him.

When he looked up again, Nureyev was  _ right there, _ introducing himself to Rita as Alexei Mashkov and shaking her hand genteelly.  He put an arm around her suitcase to start guiding it toward the ship. He looked over, smiled, and said, “Ah, Juno, ready to join us at last?”

“It’s just the dust,” Juno said.  His eye was watering from the dust as well as the coughing.

“Naturally,” Nureyev said, then started guiding Juno’s luggage inside, too.  “I was just telling Rita that my real name is Alexei Mashkov, though of course you’re welcome to use any of my aliases you like.”  He called ahead to Rita, who was shaking hands with Buddy and Vespa, “As I recall, our dear Rita was particularly partial to Agent Glass, who I can’t pretend was terribly different from myself.”

Juno followed along.  He didn’t know what to say.  He’d betrayed Nureyev, pined after him, and now, here was the man himself, guiding Juno and his suitcase toward the spaceship.

In the end, Juno said the most pointless thing possible.  It was something he already knew. “You were their friend who missed his flight to Mars,” he said, like it was new information.

“It happens to the best of us,” Nureyev assured him, nonchalant as ever.  “There was a bit of a disagreement over my passport. I made it here eventually.”  He dialed a code into the keypad for the door that separated the cargo bay from the crew’s living area.  Rita bounced excitedly from foot to foot as the door opened, then grabbed the tow pull on her suitcase and ran inside.

.-._.-._.-._

It felt like forever until they were alone.  Nureyev took them to both their rooms so they could drop off their luggage, then walked them around the ship.  Then Rita stayed in the lounge to get a head start downloading her favorite streams while Juno let Nureyev escort him back to his bedroom.

“And I believe that’s the full tour,” Nureyev said.  He was still Mashkov. Juno couldn’t say how he knew, but he knew--

“Stay a minute?” he asked quietly.  “I think… I think we have a lot to talk about.”

That earned him a pair of raised eyebrows.  “Oh, do we, Detective?” Nureyev asked. Alexei.  Whatever the hell his name was. “Are you certain?”

“Might make up for the whole lot of not-talking I did when I left in the middle of the night,” Juno suggested.  So he wasn’t going to be subtle about this. He rubbed the muscles around his eye; they still hurt. “That wasn’t how I meant to say it.”

“Juno…”  He could hear the careful tone in Peter’s voice, the delicacy he used when he thought Juno would be upset.  “How do you think I felt when I woke up? And in the months since?” He didn’t ask in an accusatory way, but Juno heard it, anyway.  Good job, Steel, you broke your boyfriend’s heart and now he thinks you’ll throw a fit if he calls you on it.

“Pretty bad,” Juno said honestly.  “We had plans, and I bailed. And I haven’t exactly kept in touch…”

“How bad?” Nureyev pushed.  He still didn’t have an expression that Juno could read.

“Bad, okay?”  Juno felt his patience snap like he had a special bone for it.  “I abandoned you, right when we’d really connected. I let you trust me, and I walked out on you.  Didn’t even wake you up, I’m such a coward. You got radio silence for  _ months _ as I just wandered around, not even trying to contact you, and now I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me.  That’s how I think you feel.”

Nureyev nodded.  He had a small smile, a gentle smile, toothless and kind.  He stepped forward to put a hand on Juno’s shoulder, caress around to the back of it.  “You’re wrong,” he said quietly, like those words alone were romantic. “I knew you would think it was the betrayal of the century, but you’re nowhere close to correct.  And I know so much more about you now.” He leaned down until his forehead touched Juno’s. “Juno, sit with me a minute and we’ll talk it through. I don’t want you to think we can’t pick this up again.”

Juno sat with him wordlessly, trying to think up an adequate protest, some way to convince Nureyev he really was that big of an asshole, while also trying to convince himself not to assume he was such a huge part of Nureyev’s life in the first place.  In the end, Nureyev spoke first.

“I won’t pretend that you leaving didn’t hurt me,” Nureyev told him, but his arm was warm and heavy around the backs of Juno’s shoulders and Juno fit neatly under his arm.  “But I realized, as I moved on to the next job, that it was inevitable. You wouldn’t even be seen by a doctor from outside Hyperion; how could I expect you to leave for an indefinite period of time?”  He gave Juno a little squeeze around the shoulders. "I should have known. I've thought about that night, after we left the hospital. How you kept saying yes to me, and I didn't think to myself that it was too easy, that you'd normally at least get annoyed that I was confirming with you so many times.  I should have given you more time to think it over; you were fresh out of the hospital after being kidnapped and thinking you were going to die. I should have known better."

Juno took his time responding, made sure he'd really thought it out before he said anything. He was trying to be an adult.  He was trying to be a person who fixed the things they broke. He said, "I don't want you thinking it was all your fault. I stayed with you for hours, watching you sleep, and then I didn't tell you I was worried; I just disappeared."

"It's hardly a disappearance when you restart your detective agency, which has only been defunct for a week, under the same name, address, and comms number it had before," Peter joked.  "I knew where you were, and I checked the news for you every couple days. And I dreamed of coming back and making you an offer that wouldn't frighten you away."

“Nureyev, I hurt you,” Juno reminded him.  The smell of cologne was starting to hit him.  His eye hurt and his throat felt sore. “You don’t have to take that hit. You can be mad.”

“I could,” Nureyev agreed.  “I’m not, though. I trust you, Juno.  I’ll try not to pull you, part and parcel, from your home if you’ll forewarn me any time I jump the gun.  I’m looking forward to reacquainting myself with you, Juno.” He ducked his head down and Juno kissed him.

Then stood up to push him backward onto the bed.

Then climbed on top of him.

.-._.-._.-._

It was all going well.  It was going so  _ well _ until the second mission.  Peter and Juno were talking better than Juno had ever talked to any of his partners.  Their first mission, stealing a whole slough of visa approval codes from Brahma, had gone off without a hitch.  The crew found themselves on Venus, preparing to sell the codes to a buyer they'd researched thoroughly, who would definitely use the codes to get people off the miserable little moon, but had a fifty-fifty chance of betraying them so she wouldn't have to pay.  Part of the plan was to get “backstage,” as it were, at the casino where the deal was going down by seducing the owner. Naturally, that was “Mashkov’s” job.

Juno’s job was simple enough.  Buddy would be the seller; all Juno had to do was run interference on any goons, which he was generally pretty good at.  He was wearing a metallic green number with an eye patch to match, sipping on a drink that looked plausibly alcoholic, listening to the low, smooth sound of Nureyev being Charming, when the sound of the casino owner’s voice came over the comms.

The thing about covert comms, Rita had explained to him about twenty times, was that, since they sat in your ear, they were really bad at picking up anything but your own voice.  They just weren’t made for it. But Juno would recognize that laugh anywhere. He’d recognize it anywhen. He felt like his heart was being squeezed, like he’d phased out of having a physical form for a moment, and his feet took him toward Nureyev without thinking.

“Mission’s compromised,” he murmured, trusting his comms to pick it up.  “I gotta go relieve the owner of some extra teeth he’s been holding onto.”

“Wait, the buyer?” Vespa asked.  She was in the car, not able to look at him until Rita got her backdoor into the casino’s computer systems.  But she wouldn’t get that because Nureyev wasn’t seducing anyone. “The hell are you thinking? We  _ like _ these people, Juno; we want to work with them again in the future.  Calm down.”

“Not that one,” Juno murmured.  As he approached the casino owner -- Sanjay, and Juno wondered if he still let his lovers call him Jaybird -- he saw the moment he saw Juno coming, because he scrambled out of his seat.

“Juno, holy shit!”  Whatever Sanjay saw in Juno’s eye, he clearly understood it meant business.  “You left Mars? I didn’t expect you to; I remember how clear we were in the proceedings.”  He was still facing Juno, constantly checking behind himself in an attempt not to run into anyone, but it slowed him down and Juno was at a run, and he socked the jerk right in the jaw.

“Jesus, Juno!”  He’d collapsed into one of the booth seats that lined that side of the room.  Bouncers came out of the woodwork to grab at Juno, but he was so filled with rage, he was ready to fight them regardless of how strong they were.  “Let him go,” Sanjay said, standing again with a wince and a hand held to the side of his face. He turned around to the group of young women in the booth where he’d collapsed, saying, “I’m so sorry about the disturbance; I’d like to offer you a free round of drinks for your trouble.”  He repeated to one of the bouncers that that table could have a free round of drinks, then turned to Juno and asked, “Do you mind taking this into the back room?”

“Oh, Mr. MacRory, are you alright?”  Nureyev came clumsily back into the picture.  He “accidentally” bumped against Juno, and Juno assumed that meant Rita’s hardware was in his shoulder bag now.  “What on Venus is happening?”

“Personal business,” Sanjay said, and he looked almost uncomfortable enough for Juno to feel satisfied.  “I’m sorry to cut things short; come back another night and we can chat some more about those bats.” He nodded to Nureyev and put an arm around Juno’s shoulders.  The guards still looked unsettled; they didn’t have any reason to think their boss’ Martian ex-wife was going to show up.

“You sure you want to touch me?” Juno asked.  “I’m liable to throw you over my shoulder and slam your back against the floor.”

“I’m expecting it now, Junebug,” Sanjay said quietly into his ear.  It was painful to hear his voice so close. “Try your worst.”

“That an invitation?” Juno clarified.  He could feel himself shaking. “I did always have a better taste for blood than you, Jaybird.”

“Would someone  _ please _ tell me what’s going on?” Vespa asked, and it was the first time in what felt like a year that Juno had been aware of his comms.

“Gladys just punched MacRory in the face,” Nureyev answered quietly.  Hearing Peter and looking at Sanjay was its own special kind of painful.  “I gave him the hotspot. I think my role’s just been burned. Buddy, are you safe to continue?”

“Wait, Jaybird?” Rita asked.  “That isn’t-- Guys, that’s Mista Steel’s ex-husband!  Oh, this is really  _ bad, _ you guys!”

Juno couldn’t hiss at her to shut up.  That would blow everyone’s cover. Instead, he had to listen to Rita clarify to everyone he lived with that “Mista MacRory” was “perfectly nice, but not a very good person,” and that Juno treated his wedding anniversary the way most people treat the death anniversaries of their loved ones.

After what felt like a month, Nureyev finally said, “That’s all very good to know, but my question still stands: Buddy, do you feel safe making the sale without Juno standing watch?”

“Get that hotspot into the server room and my role will be go," Buddy told them.  Juno trusted her to take things forward smoothly. He sat on the hallway bench Sanjay guided him to, and let Jay sit down next to him.

“Juno?”  Sanjay nudged him on the shoulder.  “Venus to Juno. What is _ up _ with you?  You come into  _ my _ business, you assault me, and now you’re just sitting there…  You aren’t high, are you?”

“What?  No,” Juno protested.  “Haven’t done the stuff practically since we met, plan to keep it that way.  I didn’t realize this was your place, Sanjay. I wouldn’t have come if I had.”  He wrapped his arms around himself. He felt cold, and he got the feeling it was the kind that wouldn’t go away with a blanket or a space heater.

"Yes, clearly avoidance is your MO here," Sanjay said sarcastically, rubbing his jaw.  "Why  _ are _ you here, then?"

Juno shrugged. "Have a few drinks, take in the scenery, maybe play a round or two of something before I hit the hot springs…"

Sanjay could always tell when he was lying, though. It was one of his best and worst qualities. "Alright,  _ don't _ tell me. It doesn't really matter. How have you been, Juno?  And how’s Rita? Last I checked, she still had her own picture on your office’s homepage."

Juno felt cold before, but now his veins felt like ice. He had that detached feeling from earlier. "When did you ever give a shit how I was doing?"

Jay… frowned at that. Like Juno had said something confusing. "Juno, you were liable to disappear on me for days at a time. I'd worry myself sick, but it never did anything, and the only answer you’d ever give me was, ‘it was for a case’." After a pause, he added, "And there's no reason a person can't feel worry and anger at the same time."

"Yeah, you didn't worry when I was home, either."

"I didn't talk about it," Sanjay snapped. "It isn't the same thing, June."

"Jeez, Steel, everyone went through the war; why d'you have to take it so hard all the time?  God, Junebug, do you have to tell anyone who asks about your brother? You’re really putting a damper on  _ board game night." _ Juno was just going through the motions now. Just like their old fights. He'd fixate on something Sanjay said that pissed him off, and Sanjay would be right, and they'd both lose. He couldn't feel his arms properly, and his eye and throat were burning from tears.

"Let's not do that," Sanjay said gently. "I know I hate who I was with you, and I know I brought out the worst in you, too, Steel. I'm… I'm sorry you haven't been able to heal from it, but looking after you isn't my job anymore."

"I kept the dress," Juno said quietly. "The one I was wearing when you let Clara fuck you in a pool shed. I don't know why I never threw it out until I had to downsize for this trip." His crewmates could hear him. He could hear them, too, but he wasn't listening.

Sanjay sighed. "Come with me," he said quietly. "We can go to my suite, I'll get you a warm drink, and we won't have to see each other again now that you know where I am." His hand was gentle on Juno's shoulder.

Juno curled forward. Sanjay had seen him cry so many times, but now that they were divorced, he felt embarrassed. "Why didn't I leave you when you had sex with my bridesmaid?" he asked quietly. "Why'd you have to marry the exact kind of idiot who'd hope so hard things could work out?"

Sanjay rubbed circles over his back. "I admired that part of you," he said quietly. "I liked that you never gave up on people."

"And then you took it as carte blanche to do whatever you wanted," Juno added for him. "God, when I think about those times, I remember when you told me you were divorcing me.  Like I was the one who hurt you, Jay, like anything I did could ever justify what you did to me."

"I don't need you to forgive me, Junebug," Sanjay told him quietly. "It's why I kept my distance. Then I don't have to forgive you, either." His hand started stroking the base of Juno's neck.  It didn't feel bad. After a moment he added, "I did mean that, about letting you come up for a few minutes and getting you a-- shit, you hate tea and coffee, don't you?-- Look, I'll make you a hot chocolate, give you a few minutes to get yourself together, and then I want you out."

Juno slowly started sitting up, uncurling his back from around his knees.  "Let a lady clean up his makeup in the bathroom first?" How did Nureyev keep track of all this shit?  Now that he'd memorized the floor plan, and knew the server room was on the way to the bathroom, it was difficult not to just act on that knowledge. But that would give away that he already knew where both rooms were.

Sanjay nodded and gave Juno his hand to help him stand up. "Of course. I'm not sending you back out into the world with mascara streaks down half your face; I'm not a monster." But then he started leading Juno toward the elevator, not the server room, which was the  _ wrong direction. _

“I don’t need to go up to your room,” Juno huffed.  “I can just… fix my face in the employee bathroom and leave you alone.”  He let himself sound self-sacrificing, like it was a burden. He wasn’t sure it wasn’t.

“Nonsense,” Sanjay said.  “I’m not going to make you remove your mascara streaks in a semi-public area.  When we were married… It was a bad time for both of us, Junebug. I’m sorry if things stayed bad for you, but they haven’t for me.  Just let me be nice to you, okay? Not to hold it over your head, like the asshole I used to be. Just because… Nothing gets fixed when you don’t  _ choose _ to be nice to people.  Especially people you care about.”

“Didn’t know you had such a soft spot for me, Jaybird.”  Juno felt like he was crying for a different reason now. He should have protested, gone back to the plan that would take him past the server room, but Sanjay’s words were so nice, it was like they were bringing him back into his body, warming over the numbness.  “I punch you in the face on sight, and you start soliloquizing about how much you care.”

“Of  _ course _ I care, you idiot,” Sanjay shot back.  “You self-destructive  _ moron, _ how could anyone keep from giving a shit about you?”

“I dunno, I’ve taken plenty of hits that would imply--”

“I married you because I loved you,” Sanjay all but yelled at him.  “And we were two self-destructive assholes in love who couldn’t get over the thrill of hurting each other.  Of course I wish it was as simple as-- as trying to punch your lights out on sight, you oblivious jerk, but  _ someone _ has to be nice to you, and experience says it isn’t gonna be you!”

He was yelling by the end, and Juno didn’t feel like being a smartass anymore.  Instead, he let his voice go as cold as he felt and said, “Point me toward the employee bathrooms and I’ll get out of your hair.  You won’t have to be ‘nice’ to me ever again.”

“They’re down the hall,” Sanjay told him, gesturing.  “Last door on the left. I’ll walk you out when you’re done.”

Juno started down the hall, reaching into his purse like he was looking for makeup remover, or maybe lipstick.  He recognized the device because it had Rita’s name on it in Braille. He ducked into the server room, the last door on the right.

There were guards in there, which was expected.  “Oh, shit, sorry,” Juno said. He raised his hand to his ear and dropped his comms into the trash can by the door.  “Oh, jeez. New comms. Sorry, I’m looking for the bathroom?” He dug his comms out from between the fast food wrappers and pretzel bags that were previously the only residents of the trash can, depositing the device in the process.  Rita had assured him that her hacker hotspot would work fine from across a room, just not from across a wall.

“Across the hall,” one of the guards grunted.  “Unless you’re looking for guest bathrooms? We can call someone back here if you’re trying to get back to the gambling floor."

Very polite guards.  Weird. Juno placed his comms back over his ear and smiled.  “Nah, I know the owner,” he told them. “I’m meeting back up with him in a moment.”  He nodded to them and left to cross the hall to the bathroom.

"There we go," Juno murmured into his comms. "Saved your damn heist. Rita, you're on." He ducked into the employee bathroom, where a woman dressed like a bartender was carefully French-braiding her hair, her uniform unkempt since her arms were raised.

Juno pulled out the makeup wipes Peter had made him bring, and the spare concealer and lipstick, and fixed his face enough. Not well, just enough. He blinked a few times, tucked his things back into his purse, and got the hell out of dodge, ditching Sanjay to make his own way out of the building. He was thankful for the cold Venutian air on his face as he walked back to the car.

"I'm done," he declared as he slid into the back seat. "No more Juno tonight. No more Gladys, either." He pulled his comms out of his ear and put it in his purse, and Vespa winced, pulled it out, and presumably turned it off before putting it back.

Then she glared at him. Juno had met daggers nicer than her glare.  "You mind telling me what the hell that was, Steel?" she asked.

"Thought it was pretty obvious," Juno told her, sprawling over an extra third of a seat.  "Sanjay MacRory is my ex-husband from twelve years ago." He put up some jazz hands. "Surpriiiise."  He opened his purse again to look for his flask.

That earned him the eye roll of the century.  "Sure. Keep it to yourself. Just like you keep everything to yourself."

"Do you have any other relations who could cause you to break character?" Jet asked from the front seat, with his usual subtlety.

"Nah, pretty sure the bridesmaid who fucked my husband flew a little too high on Angel's Wing and earned herself the real thing.  My mom murdered my brother and died in prison, but that's more or less public knowledge, and I personally hosted the party after my drill sergeant from Junior Corp got blown up.”  He took a swig of the garbage that passed for moonshine on Phobos. “That's everyone I can think of. And everyone who would blow my cover for me is on Mars."

"Gotta make everything a goddamn sob story," Vespa mumbled to herself. "How're those cameras coming, Rita?"

The answer was lost to Juno, since he'd pulled his own comms out. He just sat, half-sprawled across the backseat of the RUBY7, and sipped 120-proof alcohol as he listened to the soft sound of business happening.

The door opened, which Juno realized afterward had been preceded by Vespa saying, "Incoming," and Nureyev ushered Juno to scoot into the center of the back seat.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to come earlier," he apologized, reaching down to hold Juno's hand in both of his. Juno let him. "I didn't want to look suspicious. How are you, darling?"

Juno managed a passably gruff-sounding "fine" and didn't look at Peter.

"Will you look at me?" Nureyev asked quietly, putting a gentle hand on the side of Juno's face.

Juno shook him off, this time.  "I just want to go home, have about a dozen drinks, and go to bed," he said, looking out the front windshield.  "It isn't any of your business. I fixed my mistake, and I'm  _ done." _

He couldn't look at Nureyev because Nureyev cared about him.  He cared about Juno more than Juno cared about himself, and he did things like offer to help when Juno was just trying to lie in the bed he'd made.  Juno did marry Sanjay, after all. If he regretted it, that was his own fault and his own problem. He was still going to need a minimum of three drinks to have any hope of getting to sleep.

Buddy joined them before long, and Jet drove them home.  Juno held it together, not looking at anyone and only speaking when someone was rude enough to ask for his attention.  He hated being in the middle seat. He'd hired Rita partly because she was the best there was, partly because she wouldn't leave, and partly because she was so petite, being around her made him feel like a regular-sized human being.  Everyone else on the crew was just too goddamn tall, and now Juno was squished between his lover and an assassin for the duration of the drive. He wasn't really listening, but the snippets of conversation he heard and the tone implied everyone was celebrating the sale's success and going over their favorite parts play-by-play.

It felt like an hour until they got back to the ship, but it couldn't have even been half that.  Then, suddenly, everyone was opening the doors and getting out, and Juno didn't want to move. The only thing he wanted to do was lie down, and he didn't even want to stagger back to his room to do it.

_ Come on, Steel, _ he thought to himself.  _ You've dragged yourself through worse. You've left a hospital with half your bones still broken. The hell kind of an excuse is being tired? _

It still took Nureyev calling, "Juno?" for him to start pulling himself out of the car and onto his feet.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he groused.  “Give a lady a moment; this dress doesn’t want me to get up.”  It  _ had _ wound itself around his legs, constricting his movement until he got it untwisted, which was convenient since that had nothing to do with why he hadn’t gotten up yet.

Nureyev offered Juno a hand out of the car.  He put his jacket around Juno’s shoulders and murmured, “You did very well tonight” in his ear.

“I screwed up the plan,” Juno countered.  “It worked out, but it shouldn’t have been a problem in the first place.  You don’t have to be nice about it.” He was still glad they were having this conversation at a volume the others probably wouldn’t hear.

...Except Rita was waiting for them at the top of the stairs leading to the crew quarters, and Juno was so distracted, he didn’t see her.

“Oh, Mista Steel!” she yelled, sounding equal parts excited and pissed.  “I’m so glad you’re okay! If I’d realized that no-good Mista MacRory was the same as Suave Casino Owner MacRory, I woulda made sure we never came here!”  Apparently, they were taking too long coming up the steps because she all but flew down the top four to replace Nureyev at Juno’s shoulder. “Let’s watch a stream together, okay, Mista Steel?  That always useta help on your anniversary.”

“I just want to have a drink and go to bed,” Juno repeated.  Which was fair enough; he’d been off comms for over an hour, so it wasn’t like Rita had heard anything he’d said since taking his earpiece out.  He just didn’t want to watch some dumb show when all he’d be thinking about was every fight he and Sanjay had ever had, and how many were his fault, and how many were Jay’s.

“Nuh-uh, Mista Steel; you know I don’t let you go to bed when you’re shaking like that,” Rita told him.  He heard her words distantly. “You’re getting changed for a sleepover and then we’re gonna watch this new miniseries that just came out, called Dog Trainers of New Venus, that I just downloaded this afternoon, and we’re gonna have some snacks and have a real good time together, okay?”

Juno didn’t like being mad at Rita.  She was probably his least favorite person to be mad at, since she always had good intentions and she never got mad back.  But she was trying to gloss over everything that had happened with some dog show, and Juno hated her for it, just long enough to yell at her.  “I don’t care about dogs and I don’t care about New Venus, Rita!” he yelled, not thinking about the way the hallways between the crew quarters echoed.  “I’m going to my room, and I’m not coming out until at least tomorrow.” He paused halfway through his doorway to take the jacket off his shoulders and all but flung it at Nureyev, saying, “And take your dumb jacket back,  _ Mashkov; _ I don’t need your pity.”  It was a shame he couldn’t slam his automatic door shut, but it couldn’t be helped.

He went and sat on his bed, and tried to take off his jewelry, and people had told him he was shaking, but it only seemed to matter when he couldn't manage the clasps on his own.  He heard Rita's and Nureyev's voices in the hall outside his room. When he'd finally given up on his jewelry and decided to take his shoes off instead, there was a knock.

"Juno?" Nureyev asked.  "It's me. If there's anything I can help you with… I'll leave if you say the word, but I do want to help."

He was never getting his jewelry off without help. And Rita… Rita had a special arrangement with him that she'd always stick around, since he was usually lying about wanting to be alone, but he just felt so miserably lonely, as the only person in the solar system to screw up a whole marriage that badly, that he didn't see any way companionship could make it better.

"Yeah, come in," he called.

Peter's eyes were soft. They were so forgiving, they were hard to look at. So Juno didn't look at them for more than half a second. Instead, he bent over and lifted the clasp of his necklace off the back of his neck. "Damn clasps are too small," he complained.

Cool fingertips brushed over his neck on their way to the necklace. They reminded him of Sanjay's hands as he tried to help Juno calm down.  Juno didn't even notice his shoulders hunching up.

"Juno," Nureyev said quietly.

"Yeah?  'S there a problem?"

"I can't pull your necklace off with your shoulders so tense."

Juno grabbed the pendant on the front and felt his head bat Nureyev's hands to the side as he straightened.  He said a brief, "Thanks," then held out his wrist and said, "This one, too."

After several moments with no results, Nureyev asked, "Could you put your hand down on your lap for me? Just to keep it steady," and that was when Juno suffered some kind of internal collapse that made him meaner.

"Just do it," he snapped.  "Master thief can't even pickpocket a bracelet when it's held out to him.  I am keeping my arm  _ perfectly still, _ asshole; learn how jewelry works."

"That wasn't even up to your usual standard of abrasive insults," Nureyev pointed out quietly.  He finally got Juno's bracelet off, handed it to him, and paused while he was standing up to lean over and kiss the top of Juno's head.  "Is there anything else I can help you with?" he asked, still calm and collected. Juno wanted to be that calm. He also wanted to yell at Nureyev until his calmness was broken and they could have a proper screaming match, and maybe a fight.

Nureyev took the pause as an invitation to intervene.  "I think we have some of that curry you liked left over.  There's no reason you should have to sulk on an empty stomach."

"An empty stomach makes the alcohol take better," Juno protested.  "Hey, Nureyev? Do you ever… Y'ever want to call me by a pet name?"

"Your given name is beautiful, Juno."  He sounded as sure as he was the first time they met.

"You could call me June," Juno told him.  He didn't know why his voice was so small.  He didn't know why giving Peter Nureyev the same privileges as plenty of other lovers felt like he was dooming their relationship.

Nureyev just smiled and said, "Another day, maybe," and then kissed him gently.  Then he walked towards the door, saying, "I'll go heat up that curry."

"I didn't want that Venutian sludge!" Juno called after him.  He knew Nureyev was right, and was taking care of him like a normal, functional human being, but Juno wasn't normal  _ or _ functional, and the amount of time it took him to change his clothes was his countdown timer to when he wouldn't have to deal with his memories half-sober anymore.

"You don't  _ deal _ with anything," Sanjay would have said. Did say, one evening when they were engaged and living together and Juno had just had a run-in with a particularly pissed off ex-coworker.  "You just drink it away so you won't  _ have _ to deal with it." He was probably right, even if he was also drunk when he said it.  Juno had gotten along with Sanjay because he used to do the same thing he’d accused Juno of.  Just, Sanjay was a financial analyst, not a PI, so his career came with a lot less existential dread.

By the time Nureyev got back, the dress was lying in a crumpled puddle in the corner and Juno was wearing his pajamas with the fancy green eye patch.  He’d pulled out a bottle of Enceladus whiskey, good for the slow, long-lasting drunkenness he was looking for, and poured himself a half a glass of the stuff.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Nureyev asked as the smell of spices started to fill Juno’s tiny room.

Juno took a gulp of whiskey.  “Do I ever want to talk about it?” he answered.  “Look, it’s nice that you went to get me some food, but I’m really not hungry.”

Nureyev raised those fine eyebrows at him.  “Alright,” he said, which meant the next thing he said would be a trap.  “Should I just take this back to the galley, and you can fill up on salmon-flavored Dusty Crunchies?”  Juno winced. “Or some salmon sausage snacks, maybe? Rita does seem to love her salmon snacks. Or would you prefer to just have some cricket curry and tell her you’re full?”

Juno rolled his eye.  “Alright, give it here,” he demanded.  Rita was never going to roll out the salmon snacks at all, since she was actually pretty good about taking Juno’s preferences into account when he was this unsettled, but Nureyev meant well and he was probably right that Juno should eat something.  He had a night of hard drinking planned, after all.

“You’re really just abysmal at being looked after,” Nureyev told him, but he was smiling.  He meant it fondly.

Juno rolled his eye.  Like he’d ever had anyone to take care of him.  The person who came closest was probably Rita, and he’d met her when he was twenty-three.  “Guess I’m out of practice,” he grunted, and stuffed his mouth full of food.

Nureyev sat next to him on the bed.  “I knew you tended to eschew help when you had physical injuries,” he reminded Juno.  He’d better know that; he’d helped Juno leave a hospital against medical advice before.  “Forgive me if I didn’t realize it would be the same for psychological distress.”

Juno gave him a flat look.  “Excuse me?”

“The panic attack you had earlier,” Nureyev clarified.  Receiving no response, he added, “With the crying and the shaking and the exhaustion afterward.”

“Call it what you want,” Juno said.  “I’m getting drunk. Thanks for making me eat dinner.”  He shuddered just thinking about how publicly he’d acted out.  He should’ve taken his comms out. He would’ve given the whole heist away if he’d taken his comms out.

“Are you warm enough?” Nureyev asked.  “An episode like that can really take it out of you.”  He stood up and crossed to the other side of the room.  “I’ll see if I can find you a jacket,” he offered.

Nervousness wasn’t like Nureyev.  He might act the part, for a bit, but he’d been with Juno in Cecil’s death trap, in the Oasis and the Utgard Express, in Miasma’s repurposed tomb and then in the hospital afterward.  But now he all but paced around the room, his hands twitching for something to do. He brought Juno a jacket, then hovered as he tried to figure out what else to do.

“Alright, Nureyev, spit it out,” Juno said finally.  If he wasn’t going to get to the point, Juno would push him there.  “What’s got your sock garters in a twist?”

Nureyev smirked.  “Sock garters?”

Juno smiled as innocently as he could manage.  “What, did you want me to mention that cute, lacy number you debuted last week?  You’re deflecting as bad as me, Nureyev. Picking up bad habits.” He put a bite of curry in his mouth so he couldn’t elaborate.

“Am I not allowed to worry about you?” Nureyev countered.  That was another deflection. Juno waited to swallow before he answered.

“I’ve seen you worried about me,” Juno reminded him.  “You gave me stitches the first time we met. The second time, I ended up gassed on the train and then I lost my eye.  I  _ locked myself in a bomb shelter with the bomb inside. _  I’ve never seen you antsy like this.”

“Well,” Nureyev said stiffly.  “Maybe we never had time for me to worry before.”

Juno shook his head.  “Nah, that’s not it. That was a Mashkov line, or maybe a Glass one.  Maybe one of the yous I’ve never met. What’s really eating you?”

Nureyev didn't say anything, but he didn't move, either.  It was weird in a man who always had pretty words for every situation.  Juno wasn't sure if he was supposed to wait for him or say something. He had some more dinner.

"You never mentioned you had a husband," Nureyev said finally, in a quiet voice that sounded almost… betrayed?

Juno waited for him to continue, but he didn't.  Finally, he asked, "That all?" and Nureyev nodded.

"Oh, yeah, Nureyev, you're right," Juno snarked.  "I find the best thing to do in most situations is to lead with my worst failures, just make sure everyone's expectations of me are as low as possible and they know what a miserable person I am."

"You see why I didn't want to raise the topic," Nureyev countered.

"Look, Nureyev, if I could forget the whole thing, I would.  Unfortunately, I'm the one it happened to."

"I don't like hearing about your past from Rita," Nureyev said, and this time he sounded more like the pressure was on.  That was closer to the truth. "I don't want her account to be the one I know, but I don't want to ask you to think about what was clearly a horrible time of your life.  Especially right now, when it's fresh."

Juno nodded.  He had about one bite of curry left, so he ate it and patted the bed next to him as he put down his bowl on the nightstand and grabbed the glass that was still filled about a third of the way with hard liquor.

Peter sat down next to him.

"I'm gonna be thinking about it all night, anyway," he pointed out.  "I can at least tell you the nice, clean, straightforward version. All I've ever been able to think about is the messy one.

"We met on a case," he started.  "As you know, I meet all the cutest people on cases." Nureyev nodded as smugly as Juno had hoped he would.  "We got dinner, hit it off, and started dating. I'd just been unceremoniously thrown out of the HCPD and was getting the detective agency started with a lot of help from Rita.  He'd just gotten a job as a financial analyst at a big interplanetary transport company. I had a nasty habit of going out on long cases without telling him and coming home with my bones all delicate, and he had a nasty habit of screwing all my friends."

Nureyev frowned.  "Did he ever--"

"If you're gonna ask about Rita, don't bother," Juno advised.  "Does she look like the kind of person you'd have an affair with? Just from what you know about her ability to keep secrets."

"Ah."

Juno nodded.  "Don't worry," he said.  "I don't hang around with those friends anymore.". He hoped it would be clear that he hadn't exactly made new friends to fill those gaps in his life, but at least they were gone.

"How many of the affairs did you know about at the time?" Nureyev asked.

Juno shrugged.  "Doesn't really matter.  A guy can cheat on you with three people or twenty and it doesn't matter which it is.  But I was… I was pissed, of course, but it was fuel for the fire. We argued all the time, about everything.  We argued like it was a sport, and then got drunk together." He very pointedly had a sip of his whiskey. "It'd gone on for over two years, and it seemed like a pretty stable cycle, so I asked him to marry me.  You heard what happened at the reception over the comms."

"Why did you want to marry him if he was liable to do things like that?" Nureyev asked quietly.

Juno took another sip of his drink.  "I guess I didn't mind that much," he answered.   "I minded when he did it at the wedding. But I didn't really… If he did something I could get pissed at him for, we could yell it out.  Maybe have a little fight, if it was bad enough. But that was the one day that was supposed to be about the two of us, and he ruined it.  We broke up about four months later."

Nureyev put an arm around Juno's shoulders and pulled him close.  "I do apologize that you weren't able to tell me in your own time," he said quietly.

“Yeah, well.  Not what happened.”

A warm hand with long fingers caressed his jaw.  “Can you look at me, darling?” Nureyev asked. “The last time you couldn’t look at me, you were shaking.”

Juno felt himself start to shake again, like an aftershock from his anger earlier.  He shook his head. "Nah, don't think I will."

"Do you mind telling me why not?" Nureyev asked, but he took his hand off Juno's neck and stroked a semicircle around his ear.

The reason was those eyes.  Those big, soft, beautiful doe eyes that Juno didn't want to meet with his one half-useless one.  Nureyev wasn't any kind of stranger to mistakes, but where they made Juno feel deader inside, they made Nureyev feel hope.  And he truly thought Juno could be a different person than he was twelve years ago, and make something beautiful instead of something painful.  Juno couldn't stand to ruin that for him.

What he said, smiling as if he didn't feel like a part of him was dying, was: "I'm only about two drinks into this glass, Nureyev.  Wait your turn."

"You never used to have a queue for a passing glance," Nureyev joked.

"Yeah, well.  Never had to introduce you to ghosts from my past, either."  He took a deep drink of whiskey, putting him about three drinks into the glass.  "Good stuff. Picked it up on Dione," he said. "You want some?"

"I'll wait until we're upstairs," Nureyev told him. His voice was smooth and controlled.  Juno knew he could feel him shaking.

"I wasn't planning on going," Juno said, hoping he sounded casual.  "You and Rita have fun without me."

Nureyev chuckled softly to himself.  “I think it would be much better with your company,” he insisted.

It was that gentleness, that sweetness, that rubbed Juno the wrong way.  Here he was, just trying to have one night to wallow in his own misery, make himself as sick from booze as he was from seeing his ex, and Nureyev wouldn’t even let him do that.  He was yelling again before he knew it. "You can't be so goddamn nice to me, Nu-- Mashkov!" he yelled, standing up just to put some distance between them. "You sweet  _ idiot! _ Haven't you figured it out yet? That's how my relationships always end! With both of us hating and betraying and  _ hurting _ each other!"  He got enough control of himself not to yell as he added, “And I don’t want to do that to you.  Not yet. So just leave me alone. Just for tonight.”

Nureyev stood  The next thing Juno knew, his head was pressed against his boyfriend’s chest, one thin, strong arm around his back and the other around his head.  All he could smell was fabric and Peter Nureyev’s cologne.

“Then don’t push me away,” Nureyev said.  It was so quiet, Juno wouldn’t have been able to hear him if his head weren’t pressed against the man’s chest.  “Allow me to help you through this. I have no lack of faults, myself, Juno, but my own fear is that I’ll lose you by doing too little.” He pressed his lips to the top of Juno’s head, and left them there longer than anything Juno would describe as a “kiss.”

Juno’s heart was racing.  This was the moment: the one where he made his mistake and ruined the best part of his life forever, just like when he was twenty-five and found out Sanjay was cheating and didn’t do anything except double down on his work.  This was when he pushed Peter Nureyev away in the hope of protecting his boyfriend from himself, and they would look back on it as the turning point when they started to become estranged and stopped forgiving each other’s faults so easily.

“I guess we should go see what flavor of popcorn Rita made, then,” he heard himself say.  He frowned. That wasn’t what he’d expected to say. It was practically impossible that he would take the good, healthy option in a relationship; he’d known himself too long to expect good behavior.

Nureyev squeezed him closer.  “Oh, I’m  _ so  _ glad you agree,” he said.  Juno could hear him putting his Mashkov persona back on.  There was a particular kind of peppiness Mashkov had that Nureyev didn’t.  He kind of wished Nureyev would be Glass instead, calm and romantic instead of social and flirtatious.  He wished most that Nureyev could be himself around anyone except him.

They went up to the shared crew space, through the galley where a bag of honey-horseradish Dusty Crunchies was sitting half-full on the counter along with a sleeve of jelly-filled cucumber-lime cookies and several bottles of alcohol and mixers that had been pulled from the shelves and not returned.

“I see Rita’s pulled out the big guns,” Nureyev remarked as he opened one of the snack cupboards and pulled out his favorite, some almond-flavored cookies Juno had always found unremarkable.

Juno went into the lounge, where Rita was in the middle of a show that was in 2d for some reason.  “Hey, miss me?” he asked. Hardly his best line, which was weird; he was usually better at one-liners when he had all his blood.  His heart was still racing, and he didn’t know why.

Rita sprang off the couch.  “Oh, Mista Steel!” she yelled.  “I was so worried, you have no idea!  Seeing that nasty Mista MacRory in person, and then shutting yourself in your room for so long--”

“Alexei brought me dinner,” Juno told her with a shrug.  “It just took a while to eat.”

“Well, you come sit here with me, Mista Steel,” Rita ordered, leaning forward to type something into her tablet.  “I made us a whole bunch of Rings of Saturn, and I’ve already had one and a half, and I’m guessing you’ve had a lot more than that, but these actually taste good, and I got your favorite--”

“Rita.”

“--Dusty Crunchies, since I know you don’t like the salmon ones too good, and I was looking up--”

“Rita.”

“--reviews of Dog Trainers of New Venus, and it looks like people like it even if they don’t like dogs  _ or _ New Venus, so I thought--”

“Rita!”

“--maybe we could-- Yes, Mista Steel?”

“I’ll watch whatever you want,” he said.  It never mattered if he liked the stream, anyway; movie nights with Rita were always fun.  “Thanks for not grabbing any salmon snacks.”

“Mind if I cut in?” Nureyev asked, and sat on Juno’s other side, setting down a tray of almond horns.  “I’ve been looking forward to this show ever since it was announced.”

“Well, I did bring my chocolate-covered salmon sausage snacks, Mista Steel,” Rita pointed out, gesturing to a small bowl sitting on the table.  “Those ones don’t have so much of a smell, though, so I figured you could just avoid them and we’d all be happy.”

Juno smiled for what felt like the first time all night.  “Yeah, that’s fair. Thanks for grabbing the cucumber Coolies.”  He snagged one of the cookies out of a bowl placed inconspicuously directly in front of him.  “What flavor’s the popcorn?”

“Well, you got all up in arms the last time I tried to make it salmon-garlic flavor,” Rita pointed out, “And your arms can throw a whole lot of popcorn, Mista Steel, so I figured I’d play it safe this time and do it chili-coconut flavor, since everyone loves chili-coconut popcorn.  Well, except Missus Aurinko, but she don’t eat popcorn, anyway.”

Juno winced.  “Yeah, because she’s allergic to-- You know what, never mind.  I don’t understand her food allergy, either.”

“You enjoyin’ your weird cookies over there, Mista Mashkov?” Rita asked as the show’s intro music started up.

“Almonds and chocolate have been paired together for millennia,” Mashkov told her.  He always did this, every time someone questioned his terrible taste in desserts. “There is nothing remotely unusual about almond horns.”

“Suit yourself,” Rita said.

“Still taste like cyanide,” Juno added.

They high-fived.

The show, it turned out, was all petty drama and rich people bullshit, which meant it was exactly Juno's bag.  The dogs were cute enough, but the guy yelling at his friend for buying his dog a ludicrously fancy collar that didn't quite match his house's color scheme? That was what Juno wanted to see, especially with Rita's reactions to it.

About an hour in, when they'd just reached the second episode and Juno was leaning against Rita's shoulder on his right side and holding Mashkov's hand on his left side, Rita's comms buzzed quietly and, when she picked it up, she said, "Awww, that's cute.  Mista Steel, would you look at this? It's adorable." She handed Juno her comms and leaned forward to grab her tablet off the table, quickly pausing the show.

"Wha-- is there supposed to be a picture?" Juno asked, looking at the screen.  All there was was an incoming call notification. "I don't see anything--" An incoming call notification from the address of the Brahma Embassy on Venus. "Oh.  Oh, shit."

"What? What's happening?" Mashkov asked, and he squeezed Juno's hand and leaned over to look at the screen.

"It's those folks we stole those visa codes from," Rita told them cheerfully.  "Probably trying to get a trace on our ship from calling Missus Aurinko. Lucky you, I have all our calls that come through the ship directed to me first, before they reach anyone else."  Her fingers fluttered over the touchscreen keyboard of her tablet. "Ooh, yeah, this incoming call's got a real nasty virus in it. Those Brahmans are real good at cyber security, aren't they?"

"They certainly are," Mashkov agreed.  "Rita, forgive me if this strikes you as skeptical, but… Are you creating an antivirus program on the fly?"

"Only partly," Rita told him, her eyes glued to her screen.  "And it ain't like a general antivirus, like I gave all o' you.  I just gotta keep it from getting its hooks in our system, and that's easy enough.  Now what I'm doing is loading  _ them _ up with my favorite virus as soon as they make contact.  And… Sending it through… Now!" She sat back, returned to Dog Trainers of New Venus, and leaned forward again to plug the tablet up to the monitor.  "Sorry that took so long. Oh, I can't  _ wait _ to see what that Doug guy does when he finds out his fiance's getting a third party trainer!"

"Rita," Mashkov interrupted.  "What is your 'favorite virus'?"

"Oh, it's a real good one, Mista Mashkov!" she told him, casually putting an arm around Juno's shoulders and pushing his head down as if he was blocking her view across the couch.  "It downloads pictures of cats nonstop until your computer overheats."

"You can see why she's indispensable," Juno said as seriously as he could while Rita held him at an awkward, diagonal angle.  "Rita, I can't see the screen."

"OH, A TRIPLE CORGI!!!!" Rita screamed, and pulled Juno tight against her like some kind of drunken teddy bear.

"That's not better," Juno protested weakly.  He could see the screen (and the cerberus corgi, with its three vapid smiles), but he could swear she was squeezing him tight enough to re-break a rib or two.

"Sorry, Mista Steel," Rita said, and let go of him, but her grin said she wasn't sorry in the least as she focused on the dog showing off its athletic abilities on screen.  "Oh, you just wanna reach out and pet it, don't you?"

"Juno," Mashkov said while Rita was distracted, "Is this the sort of coding she always does? The kind that got her hired?"

Juno, his shoulders finally free, shrugged.  "Hell if I know," he said. "Hey, Rita, how was it hacking the Brahman Embassy compared to Dark Matters?"

"Eh, similar," she said, waving her hand in the universal symbol for 'more or less the same.'  "If you distract me from this Jovian mastiff for one more second, though, I can't be held liable for my actions."  She hadn't looked away from the screen for even a fraction of a second. Juno wasn't entirely sure she knew those words were a threat.

Juno leaned against Mashkov for a while, instead, since he wasn't liable to start flailing every time a cute animal showed up on screen.  After a while, though, he stopped paying attention to the show as his brain played through a Greatest Hits album of all his fights with Sanjay.  He curled up a little tighter against his boyfriend and tried not to let it show on his face. He sipped on a Ring of Saturn and tried to think of some good phrasing for when Mashkov inevitably noticed and he had to play it cool.

"Ah, Rita, could you hand me a blanket?" Mashkov asked around the end of the episode.  "The ship's day-and-night cycle is making it a bit chilly." Moments later, he wrapped a throw blanket around Juno.  Juno, for his part, had thought he was too drunk to shiver from remembering all the arguments, all the times they turned to violence and he and Jay wound down with a movie and a couple of ice packs. All the times they screamed and screamed and went to bed hating each other.  All the help Clara had given him when he was shopping for wedding dresses, and the gown she'd helped him pick, and her face when Juno found her with his husband of three hours in the pool shed. Rita's ongoing commentary was lost on him.

Mashkov kept his hands busy.  Nureyev had mentioned he doodled as a distraction, and it made sense that would carry over into most of his characters.  He wrapped his arm around Juno's shoulders, then stroked his hair, then rubbed his back, then tugged the blanket tighter around him, always comforting, never asking what would be helpful.

"Feels pretty late," Juno said finally, about halfway through the third episode.  "I might need to turn in soon."

Rita leaned forward to pause the show.  "So early?" she asked. "It's only eleven, Mista Steel."

"Today was pretty tiring," Juno pointed out.  He wasn't about to say that he was going downstairs to wallow in guilt and anger for at least two hours before his brain finally let him sleep.  "I really appreciate you putting together such a good movie night. And protecting the ship." He yawned. From here on out, it would just be a miserable, exhausted march toward delayed sleep.  "I might take some snacks with me." He leaned toward the table and grabbed another cucumber Coolie.

"Are you gonna be alright, Mista Steel?" Rita asked quietly. Juno hated when she sounded all sympathetic.  It made it basically impossible to lie to her.

Juno sighed.  "Yeah. Probably have a bit of a rough night, but nothing I can't handle."  Because he was a sucker, and because Rita had stood by him for seventeen years, he added, "Thanks for asking."

He stood up, careful of Mashkov; felt the strength of his legs under him; and immediately sat back down.

Mashkov was standing.  Rita was standing. Juno was going to fall over if he tried to walk.

"Well? Are we going downstairs, darling?" Mashkov asked, reaching around Juno to pull the blanket off him.

"I think I might sleep on the couch, actually," Juno told him.  "It's feeling comfier by the second."

Mashkov frowned.  Sometime while Juno was talking, he'd folded the throw blanket, and now he tossed it over the back of the couch and left the room.

"Why am I so stupid?" Juno whispered, half to himself and half to Rita, who was starting to tidy up the coffee table.

Mashkov came back, carrying a glass of water and announcing in that dumb singsong voice Nureyev almost never used, "I brought you some water, darling~!"

“Leave me alone,” Juno snapped.  He didn’t want to rehydrate. He didn’t want to do anything that would sharpen the sting of having to remember the kind of person he’d been twelve years ago.

“Hm.  I think not.”  Mashkov sat next to him.  “I think I’m actually going to do the opposite of that.  I think I’m going to sit with you until you’ve drunk this very large glass of water, and then I’m going to help you downstairs and take you into my bedroom, where I’ll sit with you until you fall asleep.  How does that sound?”

“You don’t get it,” Juno yelled, temporarily forgetting Rita was in the room.  “The person I was with Jay, the one who doesn’t care if you treat him like garbage as long as he can yell at you for it later?   _ That’s _ Juno Steel.  And I’ve done everything I can to be someone who isn’t like that, and it doesn’t work.  It’s impossible to pull me up out of it; the only thing that ever happens is that I pull people down to my level.  You saw Jay. You  _ saw _ him.  Now that he isn’t with me, he’s a-- a functional adult.  A business owner. A guy who can even be nice to his terrible ex.  And that’s you, Mashkov. You’re the decent person. I’m gonna drag you down into this pit, and there’s no way to be so good to me that I stop.”  He was hoarse from not crying. The inevitability of the upcoming breakup, whether it was now or months away, was crashing down on him.

“Are you done?” Mashkov asked calmly.  Juno nodded. “Then I guess all I can say is that, in Jet’s words: being a miserable drunkard who treats your lovers badly is  _ your _ choice, even if I don’t believe for a moment you’re the same person you were over a decade ago.  Oh, you’re clearly similar enough to mid-20’s Juno Steel that thinking about him disturbs you, but I wouldn’t have stuck around this long if you’d been sabotaging our relationship as diligently as you seem to believe.  Further, believing in you and treating you kindly when you’ve had a terrible shock is  _ my _ choice, and there’s very little you can do about it.  Now, I’m going to watch you drink this water, and you’re going to take a shower while I reapply my cologne, and I’ll stay up with you until you fall asleep.”  He grabbed Juno’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “And you can apologize in the morning for all the times tonight that you’ve insisted I’m some sort of idiot, and I’ll accept your apology because, really, Juno, you’ve hardly stopped shaking and we left the casino four hours ago; how could I expect you to be in your right mind?”  He turned Juno’s face toward himself and kissed him. “So your first step to complete forgiveness is to drink all of that water, and more if you need it.”

Juno wished all the time that he could take Peter Nureyev with him when he left their bedrooms.  He wished he could show him off to the worlds, or at least their crewmates, even while he knew how dangerous that would be.  But right now, it wasn't Mashkov sitting next to him. It was Peter Nureyev, the genuine article, honest and unaffected.

Juno Steel didn't usually get second chances.  Hell, he barely ever got first chances. And now, here was Peter Nureyev, appearing in front of him out of the empty husk of Alexei Mashkov, giving him as many second chances as he needed to sort himself out.

He gulped the water, then sipped it.  He heard the crunching and clattering of Rita cleaning up the kitchen and felt guilty he wasn't helping, but he knew he'd just stumble around and maybe drop something.

"Is that feeling better?"  Nureyev asked. "Do you need some more?"

Juno shook his head.  "Maybe in a minute," he admitted.  He took a few deep breaths and then stood up again.  He only felt marginally better, and it was probably more because he knew he was more hydrated than because the water had actually helped so amazingly quickly, but he wanted to get downstairs and see more of Peter Nureyev.

Nureyev only turned into Mashkov for a brief moment, as they passed through the kitchen and he thanked Rita for cleaning up while he took Juno downstairs.  He spoke to her in that ostentatious way, louder and more enthusiastic than he should have been, but it was who he was around the crew and it only lasted a few moments.  Then he was helping Juno down the stairs to the crew quarters as himself.

Even falling down drunk, Juno knew better than to mention Nureyev's real name or identity in front of anybody.  So he waited until they were in Nureyev's bedroom until he said, "Thank you for being Peter Nureyev for a minute up there.  I needed it."

That pulled a soft chuckle out of Nureyev, and he asked, "What on Venus do you mean?"

"You know," Juno insisted.  "Mashkov's all… loud and social.  A real outgoing sort of guy. But Peter Nureyev's more serious, and he talks to you like you're the only person in the room, and… I guess, even when you're with me, I miss you when Peter Nureyev goes away."

Nureyev took his hand and kissed it again.  "You know why I can't be Peter out there," he confirmed, and his eyes were so sad Juno couldn't look at them.

"I know," Juno told him.  "And I don't blame you for wanting some privacy.  I just miss you." He could feel himself blushing.  "I'll go take that shower now."

"I'll walk you there," Nureyev offered.  "How are you doing for hydration?"

Juno shrugged.  He needed to pee, was how he was doing.  He'd have plenty of time to have some water while he brushed his teeth.

This time, as they walked together, Juno could feel himself leaning on Nureyev less.  He was definitely a little steadier on his feet. He was left in the bathroom with strict instructions to yell if he needed anything, and also to brush his teeth.

If he cried in the shower, no one had to know.  The hot water turned all his skin a little puffy; that was how blood vessels worked.  It wasn't just his eye.

Nureyev didn't ask, anyway.

He arrived back in Nureyev's room, where the smell of that cologne permeated the walls.  He was greeted with a smile and a cheerful, "Ah, Juno, you're looking a bit better."

"Yeah, I… had some more water before my shower," he admitted.  It felt foreign to tell someone about his healthy habits instead of his unhealthy ones.  It vaguely occurred to him that no one ever seemed to ask how he was doing unless something was wrong.

“Come lie down, darling,” Nureyev said, and his voice was as warm as the shower Juno had just left.  So he went and lay down in Nureyev’s bed. His limbs were still heavy, and felt like they melted into the mattress.  The linens were infused with the scent of Peter Nureyev, and when Nureyev joined him, it was all he could smell.

Juno had tried wearing that cologne, once.  He’d hoped it would make him smell like Peter Nureyev, or Alexei Mashkov, or Rex Glass, or even Duke Rose.  On his skin, it had smelled cheap and wrong, like it was meant for someone else, and Juno supposed it was.

“That’s it,” Nureyev murmured as Juno curled up against his side.  “Wherever your memory has been taking you today, you’re here with me now, Juno.  You’re safe with me.” Juno nodded and tried to believe him. But the question wasn’t whether he was safe with Peter Nureyev; he hadn’t worried about that since they’d defeated Miasma together.  Juno’s concern was that Peter Nureyev wasn’t safe with him, and that wasn’t anything Peter could protect him from.

Nureyev's words came back to him: don't push me away.  What did that  _ mean? _  All of his relationships had failed because he’d clung like a leech to anyone who would let him.  Even when he was intentionally sabotaging himself, he always came home, he always slept with his lover, he always showed up when they needed him.  Too many of his loved ones had left forever for him to do anything else.

Nureyev ran his thumb idly back and forth over a patch of Juno’s hair.  He asked, “What are you thinking about?” and Juno didn’t know what to say.

Juno wasn’t good at talking.  Nureyev talked all the time about everything, seemed to say things just to fill the room, liked to put music on when he didn’t have anything to say.  Nureyev danced circles around people with his words, and Juno had always barged through the middle of things with his actions.

He didn’t know how to answer Nureyev’s questions.  He didn’t know which words to use to make himself sound less pathetic.  The only thing he knew how to do was hold tight to his loved ones until some kind of tragedy struck, so he snuggled closer to Peter Nureyev and breathed in his cologne and, as those long arms and long fingers pulled him tight, he thought about Nureyev saying everything would be forgiven in the morning, and he wondered if that would include the things Nureyev hadn’t thought to get mad about.

It was ten or fifteen minutes that felt like a week before Juno said, “You can go to sleep.  I know you get tired earlier than me.”

“And  _ I _ know you can stay up all night worrying,” Nureyev countered.  “I’m not letting you do that again.”

Again.  The one relationship Juno had ruined by leaving.  The only one he really wanted, and when they’d finally seen each other again, Juno had a badly-healed dislocated shoulder, a thick scar across his belly, and the scars of a prosthetic eye being implanted and then removed lurking behind his eye patch.

And some lingering nausea from the radiation poisoning he hadn’t mentioned yet.

He held Nureyev tighter.  “This isn’t a conversation we should have in the middle of the night,” he pointed out.

“I’ll keep in mind that you won’t be at your sharpest,” Nureyev told him, and Juno could hear the soft smile in his voice even though the room was dark.

“And it’s probably not a conversation I should have drunk,” he added.

“Well, you’re seldom sober, so I guess I’ll just have to deal with that.”

“I don’t want you to be scared I’ll leave you,” Juno told him.  “I want you to be scared I’ll stay. I want you to be scared I’ll… Stir you up doing whatever it is that gets on your nerves, and you’ll rile me up to try to get rid of me, and I still won’t go.  I want you to be scared that I’ll be too much of a coward to end things, so I’ll make you end it for me.”

Nureyev rubbed his shoulders gently.  “Should I make a midnight confession, too?” he asked.

Juno couldn’t help smiling.  As if he could stop Nureyev from saying whatever he wanted.  “Sure, go for it.”

“You want me to worry that you’ll wait for me,” Nureyev pointed out, “But I’ve never had anybody wait for me.  I meet someone, and go off-planet, and if I manage to return, they’ve moved on.” He kissed Juno’s forehead. “You’re the only one who’s actually wanted to try again when I returned.  I couldn’t worry when you left because that’s what I do to everyone. I do it less abruptly when I have the option, but as you know, complete disappearances are my specialty. The idea that someone would still be there, even against their better judgement, when I’ve left is… It’s astoundingly romantic, Juno.  I’m not Sanjay MacRory or any of your other lovers who’ve had a hard time leaving when they were prompted. I specialize in leaving. I’m looking for someone who’ll welcome me back. I’m hoping that someone is you.”

Juno nodded, and spoke quickly before the poetry of it all came crashing down on him.  “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I can do that. As long as you do leave if I start treating you wrong.”

“There’s no force in the solar system that can keep me somewhere I don’t want to be,” Nureyev reminded him.  Juno melted into his hold. He felt like maybe, in twenty or thirty minutes, he’d be able to fall asleep.

He heard Peter Nureyev say, “There, darling, now we have an agreement.  Everything is settled,” and he fell asleep surrounded by warm arms and the smell of Peter Nureyev’s cologne.


End file.
